


Between the lines

by TururaJ



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TururaJ/pseuds/TururaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Inaho-san, after my death Slaine Troyard will be granted parole. And I would like you to become the very person to take over the burden of responsibility for his new life.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Между строк](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/177249) by TururaJ. 



> Anyone who knows russian can read the completed piece by the link above.  
> To others, please, forgive me for my not really perfect English. I’m trying to do my best in the war between the google translator and my head. Please, blame my love for Inasure for any mistakes and poorly chosen words you find. I have divided the story in 5 chapters, but I can’t promise you a very fast update - it will depend on how much free time I’ll have at work (really, the most convenient place for all things Inasure as I have found out).  
> I really hope you’ll enjoy reading it. I'm desperately trying to be productive here. If only someone could give me back my twenties. TT

Inaho watches as Slaine painfully sinks his fingers into his hands folded over his knees. As he desperately bites his lips until there is blood. As his hunched shoulders are being embraced by awful tremors. They have been already sitting in front of each other for more than half of an hour, but how to behave and what to say - none of them knows. A checkmate it is. For both of them.

“Tell her. You have to,” Slaine pleads, his voice breaking, he is barely able to hold back the despair, tearing him from the inside. “Who else if not you?”

“Do you really understand what you're asking of me?” Inaho answers. He looks calm outside, but his chest feels like being squeezed in an invisible grip. Right now he is a little jealous of Slaine - envious of how the tracks of tears freely slide down his cheeks, not hiding at all descend onto his chapped lips and turn into little salty drops falling from the edges of his chin. Inaho only knows how to remain silent - he tilts his head just a bit and allows a few strands of hair to cast a shadow over his intent, oppressive look.

“You...” Slaine sobs, but in the next moment bends his body in half, hides face in his hands, and instead of words there is a quiet scream breaking out from his lips. Inaho detachedly compares this cry with a howl of a mortally wounded animal.

“It's her choice” adds Inaho, feeling how something undeniably important inside him after these words is being slowly covered with a layer of ice. As a living flame burning for so long in his heart finally fades, leaving an unimaginable void of ashes.

He gets up to his feet, waits for exactly one more minute, vaguely hoping that Slaine will live up to his unexpressed hope of which he did not even dare to think of, that Slaine will find the right words, the reason, that he will make Inaho believe and encourage him to action... but no. Slaine is simply crying, just as well as Inaho understanding that the outcome is not going to be different.

Everything has been decided.

Asseylum Vers Allusia chose her own path.

And neither Slaine nor Inaho nor even her own husband will be able to change her mind.

***

There is no such person in the world that can stop time. Hours, days, weeks are fading into nothingness. Inaho sleeps less and less and drowns himself into more and more work. But he already has the approximate date figured out - it is burned into his memory just the same as Yuki-nee’s confused smile. His sister still doesn’t know about what is going to happen. And Inaho doesn’t want to tell her, because he realizes that Yuki will surround him with care, attention and love, but he also knows that it will not help him to fill the inevitable emptiness which is growing inside him with every minute.

The day when the expected news finally comes from Mars, it is raining.

Inaho automatically finishes the remaining work, gets the folders in order, fastens the holster to its rightful place under his shoulder. He leaves the car at the gates, sends Yuki a meaningless message, promising to make her favorite omelet at breakfast tomorrow and turns off the tablet. The cold rain touches him under his blue coat, under his white shirt, under his black eye-patch hiding the empty eye socket. His heart beats too quietly yet firmly, as if sensing - everything is almost over.

It is probably the first time when looking at Slaine, while the guards lead him to the meeting room where their talks usually take place, is painful to Inaho. Slaine is struggling in the others’ hands, planting his feet firmly against the floor, his lips frantically whispering “no, no, no” like a mantra, and there is real fear visible in the aquamarine eyes.

When the guards bring him closer, Inaho buries his hand into the blond hair and with all his strength shakes Slaine so hard that he whimpers in pain, but the grip of panic slowly subsides. Slaine falls to his knees at Inaho’s feet, his breathing hard and ragged, trying to take back the control over his raging emotions. Watching the unfolding scene the guards steal a surprised look at each other - they do not remember Kaizuka Inaho ever daring to behave himself so unceremoniously rude with the prisoner. Inaho asks them to go away. What is going to happen next - not for them to see.

Slaine looks like a living corpse when Inaho helps him back to his feet and makes him sit on a usual chair. Slaine hides his eyes behind the strands of his grown hair. Inaho silently sits in front of him - the only thing that separates them now is a pristinely clean surface of the table, onto which Inaho was usually setting the board and figures for their game of chess.

“They were born early this morning. Twins, both boys. Healthy, no deviations” tells Inaho and for a long time looks at how hard Slaine’s lips are being engulfed by the tremors.

Slaine does not ask him the most important question. Inaho understands that Slaine simply has no strength left. He pauses, straightens out the wet sleeve of his shirt stuck to his wrist.

“Asseylum Vers Allusia died in childbirth, just like the doctors predicted.”

Slaine's body relaxes, as if all the stress of the past months leaves him. Inaho watches how the last traces of light fade away from his eyes. Slaine looks up at Inaho with a dead look, as if trying to ask “what are you waiting for?” Inaho blinks, pulls out his gun from the holster, and carefully places it in the middle of the table without taking his hand away yet.

“Let's make a deal, Troyard” Inaho offers, for the first time allowing himself to feel the fatigue. There is no more war that can hurt his friends. There is no more reason to work for the future of Vers and Earth, because there is no longer the one and only person, whose gratitude he would like to feel. Yes, even in his sister’s life he is no longer the only man, Yuki will survive. Inaho can leave behind the hesitation and allow himself this shameful whim.

The only thing that doesn’t bring him calmness, buried in his memories like a vile worm, is the promise to take care of himself which he gave Yuki during the war. And one more thing - Slaine Troyard’s tear-stained face, the face of the man Inaho doomed to even greater suffering, especially now, when Asseylum is no more. Inaho cannot leave him alone to rot in jail, but they are not on the battlefield anymore, and he can’t simply pull the trigger.

“Inside are two bullets” explains Inaho, slides his finger across the gun’s muzzle. “The first one for me, the second is yours.”

A bitter smile creeps on Slaine’s lips. He forgets his grief for a moment and looks up at Kaizuka with interest.

“I am willing to believe that you truly loved her, Kaizuka, but do you seriously think that I would like to take one more sin upon my soul? I’ll gladly let that bullet go through my head, but no matter how much you disgust me, I do not want to dirty my hands with your...” Slaine suddenly stops his speech and lowers his head. “She wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Think of it as of a simple deal, Troyard” Inaho is unfazed, he knows that sooner or later Slaine is going to agree to his terms - anything is better than to remain behind the bars, completely alone with this agony. “Asseylum is dead, so what they say about you afterwards is irrelevant. As for me, I offer you this solution simply because I do not want my sister to remember me as a person who has committed suicide. But I see no difficulty to leave you here if you do not agree.”

Slaine shakes his head and smirks, just a bit.

“You always win, don’t you, Kaizuka? All right, you have a deal. Give me the gun.”

Inaho removes his hand, waits, watching how Slaine hesitantly touches the weapon, like he doesn’t quite believe that the long-awaited freedom is so close. Pale fingers wrap around the barrel, touch the trigger, almost lovingly. Slaine raises his hand so fast that even if Inaho stood beside him, he would have been hardly able to stop him. Slaine puts the gun to his temple, smiles at him slyly in an unsaid goodbye and pulls the trigger.

How foolish, Inaho thinks. Slaine Troyard never plays by the rules.

In the quietness of the room several annoying clicks can be heard.

“Bastard!” Slaine angrily whispers, closes his eyes and throws the unloaded gun back on the table.

Inaho gets to his feet, takes it and pushes it back to the empty holster.

“Think about my offer”, he responds with indifference. “I'll be back soon.”

***

Rain floods the deserted city. Inaho sits motionless in the driver’s seat, holding three envelopes in his hands, one of which is already opened. He tries to focus on the noise from the drops, drumming onto the roof of the car, but a tangle of unfamiliar emotions, embraced by the unavoidable weariness, makes him clench his teeth. He had never wanted to break something and always controlled himself, even a month ago when it seemed like the pain of losing Asseylum clouded his mind and burned an immense hole in his chest.

But what he is holding in his hands right now, it's beyond cruel. It’s so terrible that shakes even his self-control. Inaho pants, leaning his forehead against the side window. The window becomes misty from his breath. Inaho draws the letters of her name on it. Slaine is completely wrong. Kaizuka Inaho doesn’t always win. This time Asseylum Vers Allusia has beaten them both.

He pulls himself together and starts the engine, steering the car toward the secret base where the prison is located. Unlike his previous visit Slaine doesn’t resist when he is being lead towards Inaho. Inaho notes how much paler and thinner Slaine has become. For a long time he stares at black shadows under his eyes, at chapped bitten lips, at disheveled and unkempt pile of hair.

“I have thought about your offer, Kaizuka” Slaine breaks the silence first. “Let’s do it.”

Inaho knows that Slaine is not lying. It is evident from how tense his shoulders are. It can be heard in how firmly his words are said. It can be seen in his composed unhurried movements. If Inaho decides to give him the gun now - they both will be free and relieved to embrace the death. Inaho wants it just as much as Slaine. But, alas, he no longer has the right to do so.

“Too late” he responds, and Slaine leaps to his feet in a fit of anger, almost leans over the table, grabs him by the collar of his shirt, but Inaho is not going to take the situation to the point where he may be forced to call the security. “Today, her will was read.”

Inaho pulls out a second envelope from his jacket pocket, puts it on the table and moves it toward Slaine. Troyard falls back into his chair in an exhausted heap of bones. It’s impossible to mistake the handwriting. Inaho watches as trembling fingers gently touch over the letters of his name.

_‘To be delivered to Slaine Troyard strictly private and confidential after my death.’_

Inaho doesn’t know what is written inside the letter. Out of respect for the Empress’ last will, he insisted on getting her message directly to the hands of the recipient, despite the severe security system and the entrance body search. But remembering the lines which Asseylum Vers Allusia left for him personally, he can already imagine the number of upcoming challenges. Yet he won’t dare to disobey, because it is her last request.

Inaho obscurely pulls out his letter while Slaine is reading his message with a completely wild expression. He slowly unfolds it over his knees on top of the envelope, which bears the accurate inscription _‘read this letter first’_ \- so as not to mash the thin paper - and rereads it again, trying to comprehend, to understand, to realize that this is the reality, and not a dream, not madness.

_‘Dear Inaho-san,_

_First of all, I want to once again express my gratitude for all that you've done for me. What a pity that the affairs of state took away most of my time, and our meetings were, unfortunately, too brief and rare. But I want you to know that in my heart you always remained one of the closest and most trusted friends I was lucky enough to meet. That is why I am so embarrassed to ask you one more favor._

_According to my will, three letters are to be passed into your hands. Two of them for you, and one for Slaine Troyard. If he deems it necessary, he will show you his letter. I think it is inevitable, because what I am about to say is closely related to those words that I am leaving him._

_Inaho-san, after my death Slaine Troyard will be granted parole. And I would like you to become the very person to take over the burden of responsibility for his new life. I know it’s pretty ugly and selfish of me - to ask of you to fill your routine with obligations of such a great magnitude, but I have no one else I can turn to. Inaho-san, you are a man who knows the value of kindness and who is able to forgive. I am sure that if you agree to carry out my plea, Slaine Troyard won’t have to endure the hatred and contempt from an unknown man who will be forced to control his destiny in case you refuse._

_Of course, I do not have the right to insist, and whatever you choose I only wish you great happiness and the best of everything in the future._

_Do not mourn for me, as with my death I am not merely giving life to my precious children, but also leave a guarantee to both our nations that Aldnoah technologies won’t fall into oblivion. While my children grow, this burden will be carried by my dear sister Lemrina. If only you could know, Inaho-san, how happy I am that, though at the very end, we still managed to get along!_

_As for the second letter, which is addressed to you, Inaho-san, I ask you to open it only if you decide to fulfill my last wish. But not right away. Please, hide it and do not touch it until you’ll come to realization that you are ready to read it. Perhaps, you are feeling that I'm talking in riddles, but so be it._

_With respect and infinite gratitude,  
Asseylum Vers Allusia.’_

“This is ...” Slaine’s voice turns into raucous laughter, he pushes the letter away, drawing Inaho’s attention, and pants just like Inaho did in the car. “I refuse.”

“You’ll dare to deny her last wish?” quietly asks Inaho and Slaine smashes his fists down on the table.

“I don’t fucking need anything!” he spits out a cry, but his rage goes away just as quickly as it came, he drops his head and elbows wearily on the table’s surface and whispers “Without her.”

They are silent for a long time. Inaho doesn’t want to admit that right at this moment he understands Slaine Troyard like never before. But his own feelings to Asseylum Vers Allusia are much stronger than any concern he could show for the former enemy. He hides his letter in the pocket, seals Slaine’s letter back in the envelope without taking a glance at it. Inaho doesn’t want to leave the letter here, fearing the possibility that Slaine will tear it to pieces; after all it’s one of the little parts left from the person who has taken both their hearts along with herself to the grave.

“I do not care what you decide, Troyard. I am not going to deny her” Inaho concludes. “I'll return when the official order comes.”

Slaine doesn’t move even when the echo of Kaizuka’s steps finally subsides.


	2. Chapter 2

_‘... My dear Slaine,_

_as I’ve already mentioned, you are free to choose your own fate. But, please, accept despite all our mutual wrongs my belated gift. I know that many years have passed since we last spoke, and that our talk wasn’t what we should have conversed about, but we were caught up in a war, and I was in despair - I hardly had the time to try and understand you. Then, when everything was over, so many urgent matters were pressing heavily upon me that when it finally seemed like I had at least some free time, I realized with horror that my little family was falling to pieces. I had no more right to refuse attention to my husband, who had tried so hard to help me in every matter, and I couldn’t go on ignoring Lemrina anymore as she was suffering completely alone._

_And so the years have passed, and I still haven’t visited you, Slaine. That’s why I want to give you freedom. I thought a lot about what happened. About what you tried to accomplish. And, you know, after so many years spent at the negotiating table - with Earth, with my own starving people, with politicians, with advisers, with very wise people - I'm ready to admit that many of your actions were not wrong. People of Vers respected you, and some of them are still grieving about you, and I am truly sorry that I had to cover your name in mud so as to stop many political battles. However, I cannot unlive the past. I want to think about the future, which I can give you. Therefore, please, allow me this whim.’_

“You are crazy,” Troyard says wearily pulling up a stool to the kitchen counter. “Just give me the gun, and we shall solve all our problems.”

Slaine greets him almost every day with these words.

“What do you want for dinner?” calmly asks Inaho, turning the gas on the brand-new stove on. Outside, the trees rustle driving away the stagnant heat of the day. Inaho looks at Slaine Troyard’s bony hands and mentally makes plans on how to improve his weight and his failing health, reflects on which pills it’s better to ask the doctor for, so that the nightmares torturing Slaine could stop. Inaho has been listening to them, lying in the next room, for two months already.

“I don’t want anything, especially any food,” Slaine’s voice is oozing poison. Inaho sits down in front of him and folds his hands together. There is just a wooden kitchen counter between them, but to him it seems like the distance is as long as the abyss. He re-examines the pale face, the swollen eyelids, the tangled strands of hair. Inaho understands that Slaine is going to exhaust himself sooner than Inaho will be able to make a reality of Asseylum Vers Allusia’s dream.

“Let's make one more deal, Troyard. A different one,” he adds, noting the flash of hope in the lifeless eyes.

Slaine winces, but tilts his head slightly to one side, showing that he is ready to listen. Inaho looks at the scarlet sunset spreading behind the window. The sun is slowly disappearing behind the horizon, but in this familiar inevitability instead of scattering of bright sunset colors Inaho sees only the haze of continuing meaningless days.

“We will carry out the Empress’ will. And if you go through everything she mentioned about, then I'll give you the gun.”

“Why bother, Kaizuka?” Slaine whispers, his fingers touch the smooth wooden surface, nails digging up the invisible crack, and Slaine suddenly freezes, taking a deep breath, and his shoulders, hidden by only a thin white t-shirt, shudder. Despite the heat he is cold. For a moment Inaho disappears into the living room, takes off the blanket from the couch and unhurriedly goes back.

Slaine is not moving when Inaho tucks the blanket round his shoulders.

“So as not to have any more regrets, Troyard.”

***

_‘...Say, Slaine, have you ever had a home? A real home, where you could fall asleep and wake up, where you could return to after a long day? Where somebody would greet you at the doorstep? ...’_

“I'm home!” mockingly spits Slaine, appearing on the steps of porch, which opens the way to the garden.

“Welcome back,” Inaho turns away from cutting vegetables, watching as Slaine removes the shovel into the small pantry. White t-shirt is once again stained by the mud, bare arms are scratched by unfriendly bushes, and a half-rotten leaf hides slyly among the bright strands of hair. The August is full of sun and drought and sweltering heat, and Inaho is pleased with being smart enough to install the air conditioning in the house.

“Damn plants,” hisses Slaine, looking at the vivid evidence of spending time outside, wipes his hands on the edge of his t-shirt and disappears into the shower. Inaho is already used to how Troyard swears every time he returns from the garden. He is more interested in why Slaine behaves like he doesn’t enjoy gardening, whereas any fool would be able to notice how carefully he handles the capricious plants. When Inaho advises him to get rid of weeds, Slaine tells him to drop dead and reminds him that the garden is Slaine’s domain, whilst Inaho’s duty is to wait for him ‘at home’ like a faithful little wife.

Inaho pays no heed to the comment, but doesn’t try to interfere in the gardening business anymore. Especially after he accidently sees Slaine’s face from the porch window. Slaine is leaning over the very same weeds, his fingers sliding gently over the pack of blades desperately fighting for their life, and there is a bitter knowing smile on his lips. As if Slaine is a weed too - an eyesore on someone else's canvas - misplaced and useless but still existing, despite everything.

When Slaine gets out of the shower, already changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans, the clock shows midday and Inaho starts setting the table. Light salad, sandwiches and an ice tea - Inaho never cooks excessively. Slaine still doesn’t eat much, most probably, each time mentally persuading himself to be patient until the moment when the conditions of their deal are going to be met comes. Inaho doesn’t press him for anything - his own fatigue tells, despite the fact that he took a vacation to realize the first phase of their verbal agreement.

They are both perfectly following the established rules. Living with each other under the same roof until the fall comes. Slaine is working in the garden, because it’s his only opportunity to leave the house without disguise and without Inaho’s company. And Inaho greets him back, as though he really cares. Inaho has absolutely no memories of his parents or their family home, but Yuki has been taking care of him long enough, so that he could put together a picture of how a real home, where someone is waiting for you, should be like.

Inaho moves the plate towards Slaine, and they eat in silence. Because it doesn’t matter who speaks first - any talk ends with Slaine losing control over his temper. Inaho doesn’t want to know if this is a result of Slaine’s reluctance to put up with his logic, or of the heaviness of heart, which weighs gravely upon them both with every breath. Finishing his tea, he makes the usual call to his sister. Yuki is blissfully happy, thinking that he is spending his vacation on a faraway beach.

Inaho has yet to choose the moment to tell her about a two-story house he has bought on the outskirts of a small town right on the other side of the planet, and that he is now going to live here, and that he has already agreed to be transferred to the secret military base, which is a couple of hours away from here by car. Yuki isn’t going to like it, but Inaho is sure that it’s for the better. Yuki will have some time to become estranged from him by the time everything would be over.

When Inaho ends the conversation, he returns to the living room. Slaine Troyard is dozing on the couch again, clutching with his curled fingers the only thing that was left to him from Asseylum Vers Allusia besides the letter - the locket which Inaho had once kept at his heart. A little introspection session tells him that he, unlike Slaine, is indifferent to things. He also has a trinket which Asseylum gave him at the lunar base, but Inaho keeps it locked away in a safe and rarely takes it out.

Inaho carefully touches Slaine’s shoulder. Despite working in the garden, showering, eating, and the hot weather, his skin is still icy. Inaho isn’t even a bit surprised. What had stirred Slaine Troyard’s blood, what had made his heart beat, what had forced him to live and go on isn’t anymore. Inaho once again covers Slaine with a blanket.

It’s not because he wants to take care of him. It’s not because he pities him. And it’s not because he is kind, like Asseylum thought.

Inaho sinks down into an armchair opposite of the couch, removes the eye-patch, which is irritating to his cheek, and presses the back of his head into the soft leather backrest. Slaine may argue with him until he is hoarse, he can break mirrors in the hallway and throw any things in his reach around the house in a blind rage, but Slaine won’t utter a single word to him until these endless moments of strange truce, which finds them in the hours of daytime sleep, last.

Probably because they both feel - during this long train of days, lost among the ashes of memories, wandering among the endless echo of pain - they are reflections of each other walking side by side amidst the emptiness.

***

_‘...And when Lemrina came back, she brought this lovely, rainbow colored bird. My dear Slaine, have you ever held a little furry lump of a living creature in your hands?’_

“What is this, Kaizuka?” Slaine’s voice is full of an utter suspicion. Inaho tiredly takes off his boots and hangs the wet jacket on a clothes hook. It’s a little surprising that he managed to get this wet whilst walking from the garage to the entrance. However, it’s the last week of September and it has been raining since the beginning of the week almost without a pause. Yuki’s angry messages are piling on his phone with no pause too - the news of his new place predictably comes like a bolt from the blue.

“It's a box, made of cardboard, partially sealed with a sticky tape, the expiration date is not limited,” explains Inaho, undoing a stifling tie. Early rises, late returns, a two-hour road to work, the meaninglessness of workflow exhaust him much more than the past war had. It was so much easier to live when he had a goal. Just one grateful smile from Asseylum Vers Allusia was able to encourage him to finish the mountains of workload, but nowadays he often steals a look at his tablet to make sure that the working day hasn’t yet come to an end.

Slaine takes a deep breath, obviously in a last effort to restrain from hitting him in the face. Inaho still remembers how in the beginning of September Slaine had lost his nerve and attacked him in such a fit of rage that Inaho was forced to twist his arms behind his back, push him down on the floor, and then drag him into the shower by his hair. Only under the spurts of freezing water, sitting at Inaho’s feet, Slaine finally came to his senses.

“Just give me the damn gun,” he said back then, but instead of a gun Inaho brought a simple plaster and silently stuck it over the scratch on Slaine’s temple.

Sometimes Inaho is glad that he isn’t able to experience the storm of emotions, which Slaine Troyard is subjected to. And sometimes he is terribly sad that his body remains motionless and his mind stays cold against his own will to crush something within his reach. One way or another, all of Slaine’s actions are predictable and expected, and for the most part Inaho is ready for anything. He hasn’t been neglecting physical training after the war; moreover, his military position obliges him to always be in shape, even though now, during peacetime, he stays at the office for hours, surrounded by the same papers.

“I can see that it's a box, Kaizuka!” growls Slaine. “We’ve also used boxes on Mars, can you imagine that? It’s just that I do not recall them ever meowing!”

Inaho picks up a box in his hands and relocates it to the living room. Outside, the night already descends, rain drums down the panes. Inaho makes a mental note to start the heating tomorrow - it is considerably colder in the house than before. He slowly tears off the tape, opens the cardboard folds and slides his hands inside the box.

“I decided it was time to move on to the second point on the list,” explains Inaho and pulls out two little rumpled kittens. One of them is fluffy and white, and immediately produces tiny claws and tests them on Inaho’s fingers, the second one is red and sleepy, pokes his nose into his hand, searching for warmth.

Slaine looks at Inaho as if Kaizuka has suddenly developed a second head. Inaho expects any reaction from him, from the obvious interest in pets down to a fit of uncontrolled anger, which could be easily caused by Inaho having not bothered to notify Slaine of his intention. What he doesn’t expect though is that Slaine would suddenly hide his face in his hands and start crying silently - it comes for him as a complete surprise.

“No matter how much I’ve been telling her about Earth, Kaizuka, I have never, ever, mentioned that I had a cat,” says Slaine hoarsely, laughs, bites his lips, smears the tracks of tears and looks at Inaho as if he spat in his very soul. “I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her that my father had to leave the cat at the animal shelter simply because it was inconvenient for him to carry it around the world with us. And do you know what the worst thing about this story is, Kaizuka?”

Slaine steps up close to Inaho, but the contact of their stares breaks when Slaine carefully takes a fluffy little beast away from his hands. Their fingers accidentally touch - just for a moment, but Inaho feels the cold shivers running up his arm. The snow-white kitten in Slaine’s hands quickly calms down and quietly purrs, leaning his face and sides towards the gentle stroking.

“The worst thing is that after the fall of Hyper Gate people didn’t have any extra resources and money to keep the animal shelters,” Slaine finishes his speech in a whisper and pulls the kitten to his chest. He disappears into the kitchen, leaving Inaho to stand in the middle of the living room with a puffing red lump, getting thoroughly warmed up in his palm.

“A puppy would have been a better choice.” Inaho nods to his silent companion, waits some time to allow Troyard to recover, then decisively appears in the kitchen doorway. “I have a suggestion to name the red one Sleipnir.”

Slaine, pouring a saucer of milk for the fluffy kitten snuggling up to his feet, noticeably winces and throws the first thing he grabs at Inaho.

“Go to hell, Kaizuka.”

Inaho, taking a step away from the colorful apron flying towards him, doesn’t quite understand why the corners of his lips stubbornly try to form a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

_“... Say, Slaine, while you were travelling with your father, did you have the time for all sorts of little nonsense things that fill our lives?...”_

Inaho finds Slaine in the bedroom. Troyard is asleep, surrounded by pillows and happy, well-fed cats. Orange is comfortably leaning his back against the warm thigh, his tail wrapped around himself, and Gull, being a favorite, is dozing right across the pillow, his nose pressed into his owner’s cheek. Over the past two months the kittens have notably grown and become more daring, even managed to urine mark a couple of corners until Inaho was blessed with an idea to give Slaine an article about how to make them use a litter box.

Sensing his presence, Gull raises his head with an imposing air, and his fluffy white tail begins assaulting the pillow. Inaho makes a detour around the bed under the watchful gaze of blue eyes. He and Gull dislike each other, his scratched hands are a testament to that. Orange is more amenable, but prefers fawning on Slaine as if Inaho is just a neighbor who comes by to visit for a short while. There is one thing that both cats agree upon unconditionally though - Troyard is their God Almighty, despite the fact that Slaine is not alien to establishing discipline when it comes to using the litter box. Inaho had a good opportunity to observe it during one of his rare days off, but this fact still doesn’t lessen any of the fluffy beasts’ love and devotion to Slaine Troyard.

Inaho freezes over Slaine and cautiously touches his shoulder. He is watching Gull’s movements out of the corner of his eye, trying to guess whether he is going to be pounced on again. The clock is showing the day being at its height, but lately Slaine sleeps more and more as if the coming winter drives him into slumber. Unlike Slaine Inaho can hardly get enough sleep - it would seem the monotony of work should make him sleepy, but too often during the nights he just lies there in his bed and stares blankly at the ceiling.

“Mmm... Kaizuka?” Slaine wakes up slowly, rubs his sleepy eyes, turns on his side and cuddles the immediately soothed and satisfied Gull to his chest. Inaho looks at this cat idyll and for a second catches himself thinking that he is a little bit jealous of Gull. The cat is warm, fed, treated kindly, and there is no bleeding wound from the loss of a loved one inside his heart. Inaho chases the thought away and meets Slaine’s look.

“I’ve finished work earlier today. We can try to move on to the third point,” Inaho suggests. Slaine absently searches for the opened letter on the coffee table, which is next to his bed, frowns and peers at the lines that he already knows by heart.

“I do not quite understand what Empress Asseylum wanted to say...” he admits, moving the rustling paper away from Gull, who is burning with curiosity. Inaho watches for some time how funny the cat’s paws are trying to reach for the letter. Meanwhile, Orange’s face appears from under his tail, he yawns, pricks up his ears when Slaine pats him down his back, and slowly goes back to sleep.

“I have some ideas, so let’s get to the town while the weather is acceptable. Weather forecast reported snowstorm in the evening.”

Slaine catches up with him only at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor. There is an expression of pure horror on his face.

“To the town? Have you gone completely mad? Kaizuka?”

Inaho calmly throws an eyeglass case into his hands and picks up car keys from the armchair, heading for exit. Slaine clumsily catches the case, almost dropping it. 

“I’ve bought you sunglasses. Put on a hooded jacket, and no problems should arise. The town is small, but tourists often stop here, that’s why the chance of someone paying attention to you is down to zero.”

Inaho opens the garage door, starts the car, turns on the heating and wipes away the dirt, accumulated on the side window surface. The snowflakes are lazily falling from the sky, announcing the forthcoming of winter holidays. When Slaine steps down from the porch Inaho is already sitting inside the car watching how the grey sky looms over the earth. Slaine, pulling the leather gloves on his hands, approaches the car very uncertainly. His figure seems better and stronger since their moving to the house, the nondescript black jacket and blue jeans look good on him.

While the car is moving along the endless highway, Inaho is carefully watching Slaine. He is not used to seeing Troyard so hesitant. Confused aquamarine eyes are catching glimpses of snow-covered trees, and time after time Slaine’s gaze drops back to his hands crossed over his knees. As if Troyard sincerely believes that he has no right to be here, has no right to enjoy the unfamiliar winter landscape. Has no right to live outside his cell.

Inaho thinks that even when they’ll get to the end of the list they drew up and he’ll put the gun into Slaine’s hands, Slaine Troyard will still remain an unsolved mystery.

The evening turns into a series of surprises.

As it turns out, Slaine Troyard has never visited cinema. He starts each time loud sounds are pouring out of the hidden speakers, drops popcorn and Inaho is forced to put a hand on his shoulder so that Slaine could calm down and stop fidgeting. It’s a blessing that they are sitting in the last row, and no one pays attention to their constant fussing.

As it turns out, Slaine Troyard has never eaten pizza. For a long moment he skeptically pokes the piece which Inaho shifts to his plate with a fork, suspiciously examines the decorations of the empty cafe, where they’ve stopped after watching the film, and too many times nervously adjusts the sunglasses slipping off his nose. But right after he tastes the first bite of pizza, a surprised exclamation breaks from his lips and Inaho barely manages to move his own portion to his plate before Troyard leaves no trace of pizza at all.

As it turns out, Slaine Troyard has never wandered through the shopping centers. Inaho thinks they look quite unusual: he is walking in front, whilst Slaine is clutching at the sleeve of his jacket in fear of getting lost between the bright rows of stores. For a long time Slaine pauses near the pavilion with children's products, looking at the long stand of children's toys he might have never had. Slaine mutters something about constant travels and a busy father, but Inaho successfully diverts his attention by putting a hot cup of coffee from a nearby vending machine into his hands.

As it turns out, Slaine Troyard has never taken a walk around the city. Inaho pulls out a scarf from the car’s trunk and forces Troyard to wrap it around his neck. They are walking next to each other slowly, and Slaine, removing the sunglasses but pulling the hood once again over his face, makes some sneak stops near the amusing shop windows and salons from time to time - some of them are already dressed for the upcoming feasts of Christmas and New Year. Inaho, on the contrary, watches how snowflakes swirl under the orange light of the street lamps.

“Kaizuka,” Slaine’s voice doesn’t tremble, but Inaho feels that it isn’t so easy for Troyard to utter the next words. Slaine looks down at his feet, avoiding his eye. “Are you... are you going to buy a Christmas tree for holidays?”

“I see no reason for refusal,” responds Inaho, thinking that Christmas tree falls exactly into the category of ‘nonsense things’, which Asseylum wrote about.

When they get inside the car to head home, Slaine removes his hood. The blush is attacking his cheeks, but whether this is the effect of a frosty walk, or Slaine is so excited about his own request Inaho can’t exactly assess.

***

_“...There is nothing better than a weekend or a holiday spent together with your family. Oh, Slaine, how I wish there would be so many happy days like these in your life too! ...”_

Inaho moves the box filled with garland lights aside with his foot and places the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, at the same time holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek and listening to Yuki’s endless complaints. He had promised to take a few days off and visit his sister because they haven’t seen each other for more than six months, but at the last moment his superiors turn him down. Apparently, the status of a war hero is starting to wear off. However, Inaho doesn’t feel that much frustration - he isn’t very eager to leave Slaine unattended for a long time.

The ubiquitous cats walk in curiosity around the tree, trying to reach the lower thorny branches with paws. Slaine is sitting on the couch, hands clasped together and back straight, his whole appearance radiating a strange sense of excitement. Inaho shakes a couple of stubborn prickles off his hands and retires to the kitchen - or, more precisely, hides behind the ajar door to find out why Troyard is so tense.

Five minutes later he finds himself comparing Troyard with a cat. Slaine, just like the fluffy fidgets, settles down near the green fir tree on his knees and gently touches the prickly branches with his fingers, smiles when his cheek accidentally brushes against one of the branches, and softly laughs, giving the cats’ cold noses slight flicks when the two become completely carried away by play. Inaho decides to start working on dinner and is not surprised when, later, after venturing out to the living room he finds Slaine sound asleep together with the cats right there on the soft carpet by the tree. Inaho has actually already lost count of how many times he had to cover Troyard with a couch blanket so that he wouldn’t catch a cold because of the draughts strolling about the house.

Weekdays pass as usual, the holidays are almost there. Inaho thinks about visiting the store after work to buy some Christmas tree decorations, but the higher-ups, as if taunting him, ensure that he is married to his job, and as a result he barely has the strength left to get home. Once he almost falls asleep while driving, and the only thing which miraculously saves him is a sudden song playing loudly on the news radio. And he is really grateful that Troyard had long since learned how to make simple meals in his absence and never forgets to leave a portion for him too.

It’s the dead of the night outside when Inaho closes the front door, blocking access to the house to the onsets of cold winds. He makes a mental note about clearing the snow covering the tiled path to home away at the next weekend. Inaho is trying to decide whether he should spend half an hour on taking a shower and eating, or collapsing on the bed might be a better choice since it’s only three hours before the familiar ringing of the alarm clock is going to activate.

Inaho doesn’t move farther than the living room. He sits down on the couch, hypnotized by how slowly the colored garland lights wrapped around the Christmas tree, modestly set in the corner, flare up and fade. Showered by the blue color of lights, Inaho notices a box with needles and opened scissors, paper and crayons scattered on the carpet. A blue haze goes away letting the living room be plunged into darkness until a number of green lights come to life.

Inaho looks at cut out and painted figures of animals, and his heart comes to a standstill, skipping a beat. He lies down on the couch, stretches out his legs and watches the glow of dying and reviving lights, shimmering on the ceiling. Red, yellow, white. Inaho recalls the bright lights from his kataphrakt’ panels, the dim lamps of Deucalion, Seylum’s-san sunny smile and her, dancing under the vast sky. Inaho touches his chest, and his fingers crush the white cloth of his shirt. It’s too difficult to breathe.

“Kaizuka,” someone else’s voice barely breaks through the murky haze of anxious visions, a cold hand reaches for his forehead and slides down, tentatively tapping him across his cheek. “Kaizuka, wake up, you're late.”

Inaho opens his eye, which seems like being sprinkled with sand and draws air to his lips. An unusual weakness in his body steals his will to move. His mind is also in no hurry to go back to the logical flow. Troyard leans over him, frowning, puts his hand on his forehead again. His touch is so cold and pleasant that Inaho can’t hide a contented sigh. Slaine disappears from his sight only to quickly return and shove a phone into his hand.

“You have a temperature, Kaizuka,” Slaine announces his verdict. “Come on, call at work and take sick leave or something, I don’t know how these things work. And do tell me if there is any medicine in the house, because I don’t want you to die until we complete our deal.”

Inaho gives up and notifies the higher-ups of his leave, promising to continue working remotely when he will be able to think straight, tells Slaine where the medicine chest is located and that there are indeed some anti-fever pills. He declines moving to the bedroom, which is why Slaine has to bring him comfortable clothes and a blanket despite grumbling all the way that he doesn’t remember ever agreeing to be hired as a nanny. Inaho takes the necessary pills and lies down on the couch, slipping into a cozy nap.

At times, surfacing from his restful sleep, he watches Slaine’s back. Troyard, having settled himself on the carpet, continues spending time on homemade Christmas-tree decorations. Orange circles the scraps of paper, playing with a rustling paper ball which Slaine makes personally for him and from time to time sends rolling across the room. Gull snuggles up to his owner and purrs every time Slaine caresses his sides and back.

Inaho doesn’t suffer long from the unexpected cold. Cough and runny nose bypass him, the temperature doesn’t hold further than the second day, yet Inaho is in no hurry to notify the higher-ups. He spends his days lying on the couch in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket with a laptop over his legs. He works just as he has promised, but doesn’t plan to go back to the office until the end of the holidays. Probably because he had never taken a sick leave over the past years and went away for vacation only once, no one expresses any displeasure.

Before holidays Inaho visits the town for groceries and then usurps the kitchen despite Gull’s angry hisses. Inaho isn’t going to cook a huge festive dinner, but he has to think about how best to finish this stage of the list, so a couple of delicious dishes are destined to be made. Although the way Slaine keeps appearing behind his back to sneak a piece of ham and then a slice of tomato almost forces him to forgo his plan purely in order to see the too snide and smug face flaring with indignation.

Descending the stairs on Christmas morning Inaho discovers that he isn’t the first to wake up. Slaine holds in his hands a package, wrapped up in shiny silver paper and red ribbons - the one that Inaho left under the Christmas tree at night. Slaine turns towards him with a silent question on his lips.

“Your Christmas gift,” explains Inaho. “I don’t think that Empress’ idea of a real holiday should go without gifts.”

Slaine unfolds the ribbons and carefully removes the paper, as if it is made of the gold threads, and only then allows himself to pick up his present. Well, truthfully, Inaho didn’t spend much time on thinking when he grabbed the first soft toy he liked from the shelf. He just wanted to honor Seylum’s-san request properly, not in a slipshod manner, but for a moment somewhere deep inside a tiny flicker of a doubt is born. Perhaps he should have seen to the gift choice more rightly. But now it's too late to change anything.

Slaine is clutching a funny black bat with big ears and spread wings in his hands. Inaho expects him to laugh or to be angry about such a clear hint at the past nickname, but Slaine suddenly disappears in the hall, puts on his boots and jacket and heads toward the porch.

“I'll be in the garden. Don’t follow me!” he snaps out on the way.

Inaho doesn’t have any objections. He turns the tea kettle on and decides to bake some pancakes as it is Christmas morning, but at the last moment remembers that he has stocked the flour packages in a closet that is inside the porch. Outside, the snow is whirling, the sky is slowly brightening. Slaine stands in the middle of the lane, cradling the bat with his frozen fingers. His head is thrown back, little puffs of air escape from his lips, but his eyes are closed, and there are frosty tracks of tears freezing down the pale cheeks.

Inaho restrains the sudden urge to rush outside, grab the sleeve of Troyard’s jacket and lead him back into the warm house.

Gull brushes past Inaho’s feet, jumps on the window sill and rests his paws against the cold window. For a moment Inaho catches the accusing look of the cat’s blue eyes.

Inaho returns to the kitchen, bakes pancakes, but even after Slaine comes back and sits down across from him at the kitchen counter, bringing Gull, disheveled and wet from the snow, under his arm, Inaho feels that the heaviness settled in his heart doesn’t intend to go away so easily.


	4. Chapter 4

_“...I feel a little awkward to write about it, Slaine, but it's an important part of life, and I think you should also experience it. The warmth, the care, the affection that a reliable partner is able to give you. Perhaps, you are already familiar with this feeling, but if not, I beg of you, please, do not refuse your body...”_

“Hell, no, Kaizuka, no! A thousand times no!” Slaine, blushing, smashes his fist down on the table so hard that the empty dishes tinkle loudly. “I'm not going to discuss it!”

Inaho adjusts his eye-patch and calmly pours a second cup of coffee. Winter holidays are coming to an end, Slaine’s birthday is looming up, and Inaho believes that this will be the most convenient time to execute the next stage of the letter, especially considering that soon he will have to go back to work and will be dog-tired again. Therefore, he starts the conversation over breakfast, but, to be honest, doesn’t expect Troyard to become so stubborn at the very beginning.

“It’s as easy as ABC. There are only two options,” Inaho assures him, taking a sip of coffee. “Either your answer is ‘Yes, I'm a virgin’ and we think about how to fix it, or your answer is ‘No, I'm not a virgin’ and we happily skip this step.”

Inaho has never known anyone's face to be able to achieve such a red color. Slaine’s head looks now like a radish, even the tips of his ears are red. Slaine is coughing, spitting back his tea into the mug, and obviously looking for ways to escape - for a moment his eyes frantically watch the door leading to the living room.

“You don’t ask about things like that, Kaizuka!” he hisses, glaring at Inaho with a fierce look in the faint hope he is going to calm down and just drop the conversation. “For example, I’m not asking you whether you had s-slept with someone... get it?!”

Inaho puts his cup down and easily withstands the indignant look.

“This information is not classified. I'm a virgin, Troyard,” he tells the truth, adding a spoonful of sugar in the coffee.

Slaine groans resting his forehead against the table and buries hands into his own hair.

“Oh, God, I didn’t have to know that,” Inaho manages to get the dishes to the sink right before Slaine rouses himself and decisively waves his hand, brushing against the surface of the table and almost sending Inaho’s coffee into a flight. “In any case, no way I'm going to take part in this insanity! And that’s that!”

Inaho draws his own conclusions and decides to resume negotiations later. He disappears into his bedroom, turns on his laptop and takes to the vastness of the Internet in search of the necessary knowledge. However, the excessive cesspool of lewd articles, photos, videos and thematic forums, also the multitude of viruses lurking among it, soon make him frown a little. No, Inaho doesn’t have any problems with viruses; the real problem is how to determine what information, grasped from watching and reading, is applicable to Troyard.

Inaho makes a questionnaire and finds Slaine playing with cats in the living room. Holding a pen between his fingers, he dispassionately asks:

“Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?”

Slaine stops combing Orange’s hair and slowly turns to him only to give him a serious reply:

“You have thirty seconds to get out of here, Kaizuka, or I'm setting Gull against you.”

Inaho exchanges glances with a hungry looking cat and retreats back into his room. The answer is not that hard to guess anyway. He ticks off ‘blondes’. The motley ads appearing after using a search engine helpfully suggest that even in their small town they can easily take a girl for the night for a certain fee. The only problem is that no one should see Troyard’s face and preferably not memorize the way to their house.

“There is a small problem,” Inaho admits in the evening, detecting Slaine wrapped in a blanket and peacefully reading a book on the porch. “I’ve talked to the head of the local brothel, but none of his employees agree to go blindfolded to a house to two young men. They seem to think it’s suspicious.”

Slaine's face turns pale, the open book falls from his knees, and Troyard, jumping as if stung, grabs the front of his shirt.

“Kaizuka, y-you! W-what are you…” stammering, Troyard shakes Inaho hard. “How could you even think that I... What do you take me for? Do you think I'll be able to treat a lady like a… thing? I'd rather just castrate myself!”

“Not a bad idea, by the way,” despite the deadlock Inaho feels the corners of his lips going upwards. “That way we can be done with this stage by simply writing it off for your lack of the necessary region for...”

“God, just shut up, you’re unbearable,” growls Slaine, releasing his shirt.

“All right,” Inaho yields. “I'll think of something else.”

Slaine picks up his book, looks at Inaho with a heavy dose of skepticism in his eyes and gets back to the armchair, pointedly turning his back to him. Inaho prepares a simple dinner, periodically returns to his laptop and thoughtfully leafs through the found articles. The only rational way out, which eventually comes to his mind, leads to some confusion as it requires his direct involvement.

During dinner Inaho is staring at Slaine, causing him to shiver and then shoot suspicious glances at him. Slaine tries to eat more quickly, he probably wants to escape to his bedroom, but, unfortunately, even Gull, who is usually seizing the kitchen at this time, always determined to look after his owner, is lost somewhere in the house and is not in a hurry to run to Troyard’s rescue. Inaho closes the kitchen door with a key and puts the key in his pocket, indicating that he has never been this serious.

“All right, fine,” Slaine sighs, warming up his fingers over the hot mug of tea. “Come on, spit it out, what else has your brilliant mind come up with, Kaizuka? I hope you won’t be offering me any toys?”

“Seylum-san mentioned a reliable partner and affection. Love dolls, unfortunately, are not capable of such care, otherwise I would have already offered you this option,” Inaho starts from afar. “And you have flatly refused to pay and use the girl’s services.”

“Yes, that is unacceptable,” confirms Slaine, frowning in disapproval. Inaho makes a long pause, giving his coffee a stir, and looks outside. Snowflakes, weaving into a frostwork, mockingly stick to the window. The kitchen becomes so quiet that Inaho can hear the piercing wail of the wind getting up. Surely a snowstorm is going to rage again at night.

“In that case,” making up his mind, Inaho puts down his cup of coffee and slides his hand towards Slaine’s fingers, which are holding a mug of tea. “There is only one option left.”

His fingertips are slowly moving over Slaine’s fingers - from the very tips down to his knuckles and further - until his hand is completely covering the other’s. His touch is light and careful - Slaine can jerk back his hand at any time. Inaho feels how the trembling fingers under his palm are being attacked by goosebumps. Slaine stares at his hand for a long time, desperately trying to understand what Inaho is offering him.

“Are you nuts or what?” Slaine forces out a breath, but still cannot work up the courage to shove his hand off. Inaho watches his expression. The only other time he saw Slaine so lost and surprised was when Inaho informed him that his rescue had been Asseylum’s wish.

“We don’t have to hurry,” explains Inaho, letting go of warm fingers and moving a cup of coffee back towards himself as if nothing has happened. “And you have to agree this option is much better than bringing any strangers home and risking you being recognized.”

“Let's just forget about the whole conversation and skip this part of the letter,” Slaine wearily rests his elbows against the table and hides face behind his hands.

Just for a second Inaho seriously ponders over his words, but then shakes his head in disagreement.

“Troyard, can you really ignore the sincerity and warmth that Seylum-san put into the words she left for you? She wanted you to experience it. Of course, there is no guarantee that we are going to succeed. In articles they state that...”

“Stop! That’s enough, enough!” Slaine forces himself to speak harshly and stands up on unsteady legs. “Open the door.”

Inaho unlocks the door, Slaine passes him, but when their shoulders brush, Slaine, avoiding his eye, whispers:

“I'll think about it.”

Inaho finishes his coffee and goes back to his room. He has to find a completely different variety of articles to at least have some idea of what awaits them. Inaho is almost certain that Slaine is going to agree. Focusing on the comments of people who have already gained enough experience, he carefully records the appropriate sequence of actions, which they should strongly keep to in order to avoid screwing up. His attention strays away only for a moment, when he casts a long look at the photo of a smiling Asseylum set on a bookshelf. He is a little jealous of the amount of wishes in her heart she didn’t hesitate to shower Slaine with. Unlike Troyard’s letter his own seems too brief and dry. Inaho remembers about the third envelope, but he is too afraid to open it. He feels that if he does it, it will put an end to everything, he’ll have to finally admit that Asseylum Vers Allusia is no longer in this world.

Neither he, nor Slaine is asleep. When Inaho intends to go to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water he finds Troyard sitting near the Christmas tree in semi-darkness and observing the shimmering garland lights. Gull is turning the couch into his own little empire, and Orange curls himself up into a ball onto one of the stairs steps. Inaho silently sits down near Slaine, but it’s not enough to drive Troyard away. Slaine is nervously pulling at the wings of the bat Inaho gave him for Christmas.

“Do you even realize how absurd is everything what is happening now?” Slaine asks. “Are you not bothered by it?”

Inaho carefully nestles his shoulder against Slaine’s, his forefinger slides along the big and black ears of the soft toy.

“I’ll put a gun into your hand in the near future, and you are going to kill us both,” Inaho tries to reason. “If that doesn’t make me feel any anxiety, why do you think the possible sex between us can cause such emotions?”

“Shit, you’ve just said the ‘s’ word!” Slaine suddenly laughs, moves the bat away from him as if he is the only one who has the right to touch it. “I bet you’ve already made a brief guide to action, didn’t you?”

“There is no need to make any bets,” says Inaho and pulls one of the sheets, covered with his writing, out from his trouser pocket. He plans to throw it away into the wastepaper basket but Slaine steals the crumpled sheet from his hands and skips through it, squinting in the dark, then continues to laugh.

“Holding hands and kissing as the things to start with? What the hell, Kaizuka, I didn’t know you were a romantic.”

Inaho sighs, takes back his list and explains:

“I was trying to take into consideration your often uncontrollable emotions, Troyard. I thought that if we’d just get down to business, you’ll simply lose your temper and then change your mind, and that will once again slow down the process of completing our deal. Besides, my understanding of a ‘reliable partner’ doesn’t include coercion and mechanical sex.”

“Just admit you feel attraction to me,” Troyard taunts him, but Inaho, having lost patience, suddenly grabs his wrist and grips it so hard that even if Slaine tried he wouldn’t escape. Slaine hisses, trying to pry Inaho’s fingers open with his free hand, but eventually gives up, hangs his head in defeat and doesn’t even mind when instead of holding his wrist Inaho intertwines their fingers.

“I am not doing it today!” Slaine lays down his terms, tiredly stretches over the carpet, allowing Inaho to slowly and soothingly stroke his palm.

“So tomorrow or the day after. I still need to visit the town,” Inaho sums everything up and feeling the other’s tense look decides not to tell Slaine about the purpose of the drive, as he suspects that mentioning condoms and lubricant is going to cause a new round of Troyard’s protests. For the time being he is pleased with how calmly Slaine falls into a light sleep without letting go of his hand.

Despite the snowstorm passing off only in the morning, the drive goes smoothly. The extent of human ingenuity, however, leaves Inaho a bit amazed after he walks out of the sex shop. Though this is not the right time to tease Troyard, or the dubious consent he gave may go down the drain. Inaho parks the car in the garage, picks up the bag and makes his way to the house, but involuntarily stops on the cozy porch and turns to look back. For a long time he watches the garden’s edge peering round the corner of the house, the tiled path he personally cleared from the snow, the high brick fence encircling the vast area. The snow-covered branches of the forest trees almost hang over the house.

Inaho inserts the keys into the lock, opens the door, chasing away the feeling in his chest which seems so much like the spark that had faded once with Asseylum’s last breath. But no. Apparently he is just tired and looking for something that cannot be born out of thin air.

Slaine, wrapped in a large towel, is sitting on the couch, clearly after a shower bath. His teeth chatter. Orange is hovering at his feet. Gull is yawning, having taken his stand on a window-sill, his tail wagging in irritation. Inaho changes into light clothing - a simple black shirt and lounge pants. He stands motionless in front of Slaine, waiting for the moment when Troyard raises his eyes.

“Inaho,” his own name said in a whisper feels so foreign. “This is too much. Let’s not do it. She would have understood.”

Inaho can fall back. He doesn’t see any difficulty in proceeding to the next step of the letter. Perhaps later it would be a pity to realize that they hadn’t coped with everything, but still there is some truth in Slaine’s words. They both are just simple people who are far from perfect, not everything is within their powers. Inaho thinks he can step back now, but it is as if something breaks inside, and his hands cup Slaine’s cheeks. Lifting the other’s face, Inaho leans toward Slaine’s lips.

Their noses bump into each other once, and then again - when they both simultaneously decide to tilt their heads to the same side. Inaho can feel the warm breath on his cheek, his fingertips brush against the wet strands of hair. He presses his lips to the other’s mouth. Slaine is motionless, but it seems like his hectic and off breathing and trembling gradually calm down. Soft lips are uncertainly opening for Inaho, sending a wave of pleasant shivers over his own lips.

Inaho doesn’t plan on deepening the kiss as he has read about it in the articles and seen on many videos. It is unexpected but he finds kissing Troyard and feeling his unsure, almost lazy, response is to his liking. He understands now how foolish it was to mistake those terrible moments when he had been saving Seylum’s-san life for the first kiss. Nothing is the same. Everything feels different. Troyard’s lips are not so soft, not so cold, and not entirely indifferent. Inaho moves his fingers over his face, neck, down to the bare shoulders. He puts slight pressure on them, silently urging Slaine to lie back on the couch, to trust him, to let him lead.

Inaho settles himself on top of a tense body, runs his hands down still trembling shoulders, touching the edges of the old scars littering Slaine’s chest and back. He hasn’t once asked about these scars, but maybe at that very moment he saw them for the first time, when the two of them had just started living together, he realized that many of his theories about Troyard’s identity were failing miserably. He was always curious why Asseylum had been so eager to save a man who had hurt her. What is there inside him that deserves to be saved? Smart and calculating, a talented soldier on the battlefield, an absolute leader - that was how Inaho remembered him in the last years of war. Lost, broken, not able to hide his tears - after. But was there something else?

Inaho understands that he didn’t seek to unravel this mystery. The fact that the war was over and Asseylum stayed safe was enough for him. And now suddenly it seems like he had overlooked something important, but now is not the time or place to ask any questions. Slaine slowly becomes bolder, responds to his kisses, closes his eyes, his fingers cling to the folds of Inaho’s shirt. Inaho dares to caress his wet lips with the tip of his tongue. Slaine’s body suddenly shudders, he breaks the kiss, throws back his head and searches for air.

Inaho lets him have a little pause, his searching look follows along the other’s jawline down to the protruding Adam's apple. The desire to nip at the pale skin with his teeth comes unexpectedly. The course of obedient thoughts comes abruptly to an end, the unfamiliar impatience burns his body with inexplicable impulses. Inaho lowers his lips on Slaine’s neck and leaves a trail of light bites there. The collarbone attracts him even more - like a pioneer, he suddenly craves to leave his mark on it.

“To my bedroom,” breathes out Slaine, burying his hand in his hair and pushing Inaho’s face away. “Let's get to the bedroom. They are watching.”

Inaho raises his unfocused look. Orange is sitting at the edge of the bed curiously watching their fuss and is about ready to jump on both owners. Gull is still on the windowsill, but his little face is turned towards them, and his eyes, sparkling in the dim light, are closely watching Inaho’s movements. Inaho picks up his bag from the floor, and Slaine, re-wrapping himself into a crumpled towel like into armor, is the first one to go up the stairs. Inaho looks at how the rays of the meager daylight, pouring from the parted curtains, are dancing along the line of his shoulders.

Inaho closes the bedroom door just before the curious Orange is aiming to brush past him. For a long time Slaine stands motionless near the bed. Walking towards him, Inaho notes that he still hasn’t caught up with Troyard’s height, but then it becomes so easy and convenient to press his lips to his neck-bone. Under the attack of his deliberately slow kisses Slaine’s back surrenders to shivering. Inaho puts his arms around him, his careful touch begs Slaine to let go of the unneeded towel, to unclench the death grip.

Inaho clearly understands that if he won’t one way or another urge on and guide Troyard, all of their campaign is just going to fizzle out. He has to act for both of them. Inaho thinks he wouldn’t have minded if Slaine decided to take the matter into his own hands. For Inaho Asseylum’s wish is the law, he is willing to accept any role in the bed. But now that he has to lead Inaho feels yet unknown responsibility. He is used to planning and taking command, he is accustomed to the absolute subordination during the minutes of chaotic battle, but right here and now that what is happening between them - is something completely different, and there is no place for inequality and lack of choice, but how can he show it? How to let Slaine understand?

Inaho won’t give himself away and won’t ever admit that he is nervous because it's his first time. Because Slaine in his hands looks like a lifeless doll - giving away his body but not his soul. And is there any soul left, if all of it had been spent on Asseylum, scorched by the flames of war and the absolute loss, and the remains of it have been rotting away in the lonely years of prison? How to convince Troyard to stop biting his lips in vain? How to persuade him to stop flinching from the fear of touch? What does Inaho have to say to him so that he’d believe that even without the love the shared bed can be full of warmth?

The towel falls down at their feet. Inaho kisses Slaine’s shoulders, guides his hands along his chest, timidly touching the swollen nipples, carefully tracing the lines of scars. Slaine’s heart is beating irregularly under his palm - Inaho likes to feel its agitated rhythm. Slaine has his eyes closed, letting Inaho touch him anywhere he wants. But Inaho doesn’t want it to be like that - he doesn’t want to take without giving anything in return, doesn’t want to draw the unnecessary boundaries. It seems important, even if he doesn’t really understand why, but right now there should be two of them, and not just him alone.

“Slaine,” Inaho’s voice sounds exactly like always, “Unbutton my shirt.”

“Are you mocking me?” Slaine whispers, clenching his hands into hard fists. And there is so much bitterness and vexation, strange resentment and distrust, fear and anger in his whisper that Inaho can’t let this retort slide. And he knows - the way he responds will determine the outcome of the day, the outcome of this stage, the outcome of everything that they rushed to realize like mad in order to pay their last respects to their beloved woman.

Inaho gently takes Slaine’s fingers into his hand and pulls them to his lips. Slaine turns to him, looks at him in astonishment, thinned by the gravity of his fatigue, and Inaho kisses his fingers the way he would’ve kissed Asseylum’s if only he had the chance. You don’t kiss your former enemies like that, you don’t kiss your housemates like that, you don’t even kiss your close friends like that. This is not a kiss on the lips, which can be attributed to passion. This is not a kiss to the top of someone’s head out of pity or compassion to soothe their worries. And this kiss is not out of respect, when lips touch the other’s hand only for a fleeting moment.

Inaho feels that if he isn’t going to get a response, then he’ll back down. His gesture - is so incredibly much more than he is capable of. Even the undeniable hero of the war has limits, overstepping which is awfully difficult. But something subtly changes in Slaine’s eyes, they are full of strange softness now, mixed with hesitation and shame Inaho has never seen. Slaine’s hands are trembling when he clumsily undoes the buttons of Inaho’s black shirt. His fingertips touch Inaho’s chest, but his courage lasts only until his hand reaches the waist of his pants, and Slaine ends the touch. But it's doesn’t feel as bad as Slaine refusing to appreciate his gesture would have.

Inaho takes a step forward, raising his head a little, and Slaine, embracing his shoulders, doesn’t resist a new kiss. Naked body presses against him - Inaho cannot deny how nice it is to feel the warmth of another's skin. He would’ve gotten rid of his pants, but he is afraid to scare Troyard with such rush. Later then. For now he lets his palms explore the tempting curves of Slaine’s back, to caress the protruding hip bones and stop over the taut buttocks. Inaho doesn’t close his eye specifically to monitor Slaine’s reaction, and doesn’t miss the moment Slaine closes his eyes tight, and the blush on his pale cheeks gets even brighter. It seems like Troyard is no longer going to interfere with their intimacy, despite the current situation being so hard on him.

Well, Inaho guesses that if anyone ever told him that touching Slaine Troyard’s ass would be so arousing, Inaho not only wouldn’t have believed it, but also would’ve considered that person to be a complete idiot having a disorder in the form of the Down syndrome. But reality can’t be escaped, and Inaho feels the first stirrings of desire, pressing Slaine’s hips into his groin. Whether this stems from his lack of experience and unknown preferences, or the atmosphere of calmness and permissiveness from the realization of a soon finale, or the emotions simply awaken under the influence of the novelty of the moment, Inaho doesn’t know. But he sees no point in denying the obvious - he is aroused and they will succeed if only Troyard will be able to relax enough to get his own portion of pleasure.

Without breaking the kiss Inaho leads Slaine towards the bed, pushes him down on the sheets and moves his knee between his legs. He gives Slaine time to catch his breath, leaves a kiss behind his ear, burying his nose in the still wet hair. Slaine’s hair smell of the orange shampoo that Inaho jokingly bought once on his way home from work, and the scent of Slaine’s skin seems somehow special and fresh. Inaho tries to pick a clear definition for it, but can’t. Slaine smells of winter and home, but as Inaho sees it this phrase is as vague and mysterious as the hieroglyphic inscriptions on ancient relics.

Orange’s doleful meowing along with scratching at the door suddenly pulls a laugh out of Slaine’s lips. And even though Inaho’s touch is becoming more daring, the tension slowly leaves the body in his arms. Troyard lays his head on a pillow, clinging to its edges, and allows Inaho’s hands to caress the insides of his thighs. Inaho is unhurried and methodical - for a long time his fingers move from the quivering knees up to the hip bones and back. Slaine’s nudity doesn’t bother him the way an unexplored woman's body probably would have. Besides his own curious reaction Inaho doesn’t discover anything new.

“I hope you've at least studied the theoretical part sufficiently.” Inaho doesn’t react to an attempt to delay the inevitable with a meaningless dialogue. Slaine lies with his eyes closed, bites his lips, and is desperately trying to hide one of his burning cheeks in a pillow. Inaho spreads Slaine’s legs wider, slides his hands under the knees, leans over the quivering stomach and makes his way down with light kisses and nibbling. No matter how much Troyard wants he can’t conceal his heavy breathing. Letting himself have only a momentary hitch, Inaho runs his tongue over Slaine’s arousal, tasting Slaine for the first time.

“Nnngh,” a muffled moan makes Inaho shiver, the heat intensifies the burning desire inside, demanding to be freed. Slaine’s voice bears an ashamed plea. “S-stop, just… do it.”

Inaho decides not to torment Troyard with extra caresses. In the end, the most difficult part of the process is looming up - the preparation. This is the last chance for Slaine to change his mind and escape. Later, for obvious reasons, it’ll be too stupid to run away. Inaho places the forgotten bag on the bed and dumps its contents on the bed sheets. The rustling forces Slaine to open his eyes, but the mere sight of the package with condoms and a tube of lubricant makes him groan hopelessly, and he rolls over onto his stomach and buries his nose in the pillow covering his head with his hands.

Inaho is not opposed to the new position. It’ll be more comfortable for both of them and, certainly, Troyard must be experiencing less anxiety because he can’t see Inaho’s face this way. His hand soothingly traces the long and angry scars, while his lips follow the line of Slaine’s vertebrae. Inaho pours the cool lubricant on his palm, not worrying about the wasted amount. When his fingers gently touch the cleavage between his buttocks, Slaine says nothing, but the way his shoulders tense and his elbows buckle from trembling and because of the disappearance of the arousal Inaho concludes that Troyard may lose his courage at any time.

“Relax,” asks Inaho, but before Slaine has time to pull away and say something, Inaho hugs him with his free hand and presses his cheek against Slaine’s, catching the look of the sea-blue eyes, which are about to shed tears of shame. “Everything is okay.”

Slaine lowers his head, hiding his face again, and clenches his teeth while Inaho’s fingers are moving inside the hot tightness of his body, slowly stretching the stubborn muscles. Troyard is so tight that Inaho doubts he will last long enough for Slaine to feel the pleasure, mentioned in the information sources. Inaho was sure he would be able to keep his desire in check, but the thought that soon he is going to fill that tight space of Slaine’s ass, suddenly fires him up to such an extent that he even bites his lip.

When Inaho removes his fingers Slaine obediently spreads his knees wider, as if he doesn’t believe at all that he may get some pleasure from this and wants to finish what is happening faster. Inaho lingers, unbuttoning his pants, opening the package with condoms and learning how to put on one. He takes his time squeezing Slaine’s buttocks and kissing the tense back, silently urging Slaine to stop being afraid and trust him, to let go of all the unnecessary thoughts, fears, doubts and surrender himself to the primal instinct. When he feels the weak response, he slowly guides himself inside.

“Does it hurt?” the feeling of tightness and heat envelopes him, fogging his mind. Inaho slips inside completely, barely controls his thighs from starting to move. He can’t manage to catch his breath and he can feel the beads of sweat rolling down his back. The damp shirt sticks to the heated skin. Slaine stays silent and Inaho, getting out of his shirt without breaking the contact of their bodies, leans toward his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” he repeats the question, pressing his nose to the ear peeking out from under the wet hair. He dares to give a slight bite to the tempting earlobe, which is why Troyard angrily turns to him, but instead of waiting for the burst of indignation Inaho kisses the corner of Slaine’s mouth. And does it once more, gently rubbing his temple against Slaine’s. Troyard suddenly lowers himself on the bed even more as if Inaho steals away all of his last strength.

“Does it hurt?” now there is worry in Inaho’s voice, his fingers comb through the blond hair, touch Slaine’s neck, slide along his arm, and finally reaching Slaine’s fingers on the bed, intertwine with them. Slaine takes a long look at their united hands and all of a sudden gasps for air and squeezes Inaho’s fingers back.

“No, it doesn’t,” his hoarse voice trembles. Inaho watches as tears fall from under the closed eyelids, roll down his cheeks, and Slaine grips his hand so hard that Inaho feels pain. “Move already”.

A little bit later, Inaho straightens his back, puts his hands onto Slaine’s hips and makes his first thrust. He ignores his own body’s desire to move at a furious pace and moves slowly and hesitatingly. He is careful despite how good he feels. Actually he feels awfully good, waves of pleasure are coursing through his body, winning over every cell, knocking his breath, and driving away all his thoughts. But he can’t allow himself to forget that he has to share these sensations with Troyard, otherwise it would be very unfair, because Asseylum wanted Slaine to experience it.

Asseylum... no, he won’t remember her now. There is no place for the Empress in this bed, even though it is her will. How can he think of her, if he has his eye glued on Slaine’s tear-stained face, if the body trembling under his arms is Slaine’s, if the surprised moan falling from his lips when Inaho finally reaches the sweet spot inside him belongs to Slaine? Yes, Inaho is inexperienced, yes, it's his first time, yes, he is not very good when it comes to communicating with people, but even he knows that being with one person, but thinking about someone else - is too mean. Inaho listens to Slaine’s panting, to the occasional moans that Slaine cannot hold back, and - forgets about everything, letting himself go.

There is nothing more aside from their heated bodies moving towards each other. Inaho grits his teeth, trying to catch some air, some strands of his hair stick to his forehead. His hands are gripping Slaine’s hips so hard that Inaho thinks that later the bruises will inevitably bloom over the pale skin. Time after time he draws the lithe body closer and misses the moment Slaine begins meeting his movements. A thrust inside. One more. Inaho watches himself disappearing and slipping back out of the hot and tight ass, giving rise to the vulgar sounds of frequent slapping.

He doesn’t last long. Perhaps, an eternity passes, perhaps, it's just shameful five or seven minutes, but almost at the peak Inaho reaches for Slaine, wraps his fingers around his heated flesh, not wanting to fall into the abyss of pleasure alone. Slaine is hard and hot under his touch - just a few movements is enough to make the other’s pleasure spiral out of control. Slaine’s cry escapes from his bitten lips. Inaho pushes him hard against the bed, his hips are still moving erratically, but the world around him shatters, disintegrating into chaotically moving atoms, leaving only a muffled echo of the quickened breathing and the rustle of the bed sheets after itself. This moment seems like a small death, only without the excruciating pain. Who is he, where he is, what is he - instead of the answers Slaine’s hips are shaking under his grip.

Inaho slowly recovers, resting his cheek against the sweaty back, belatedly realizing that he is still mercilessly collapsed on top of Troyard. Slaine is motionless beneath him, but Inaho can feel his heart beating when he slides his fingers over Slaine’s chest. His body is betraying him, refusing to move. It seems like every muscle, every cell is now filled with an insurmountable weakness, and Inaho forces himself to slip out of Slaine’s body only with the help of pure willpower. He gets rid of the condom and falls flat on his back near Troyard, pulling the unconscious Slaine on his shoulder. Of course, now that this stage of their unusual campaign is successfully completed, Inaho can go back to his own bedroom or at least lie down on the other side of the bed, but he is too grateful to Troyard for his first and, most likely, last time to leave him alone. He reaches for the blanket, thrown on the floor, and covers them both.

Inaho doesn’t notice the moment he falls into slumber, but when he raises his head from the pillow, it is dark outside. Slaine is still asleep, one of his legs draped over Inaho’s. Inaho doesn’t immediately identify the sound that wakes him up, but quite soon realizes that the stubborn and hungry cats are scratching at the door. Inaho carefully gets out of bed and goes down to feed the hungry beasts. Gull keeps pretending that he won’t accept his sop, but as soon as Inaho crosses the threshold of the kitchen, pounces on the food. Inaho climbs up the stairs towards Troyard’s bedroom, wondering whether or not to wake Slaine to dinner, but Slaine’s face looks so peaceful in the warm light coming from the hallway that Inaho decides to just go back to bed.

This time he lies down on the other side of the bed and tries to fall asleep, listening to the creaking of the trees protesting under the onslaught of the cold wind. A little bit later he feels the bed dipping somewhere at his feet. Orange, stretching, arranges himself over the blanket, pressing his back against Inaho’s knee. Five minutes later an unfriendly Gull jumps on the headboard and sneaks his way to Slaine, not forgetting to step onto Inaho’s shoulder and brush his fluffy tail against Inaho’s face. Gull curls himself up into a ball right between them at chest level, as if silently warning Inaho that he no longer has any rights to delve into the forbidden territory - the day is over, it’s time for things to resume their normal course.

Inaho is almost asleep when he feels warm fingers gently touching his shoulder. Slaine’s whisper can be barely heard in the silence of the bedroom.

“Thank you, Kaizuka, for at least one thing in my life wasn’t painful.”

Inaho is glad that Slaine doesn’t know that he can hear him. Because this is, perhaps, the first time in Inaho’s life when he can’t find a suitable reply.


	5. Chapter 5

_‘...I beg of you, Slaine, live. Live and be happy every day. Do not let past mistakes be your undoing. Live, in spite of everything. After all, life is the most precious thing we have.’_

“It's funny, really, that even after so many years she still didn’t realize what the most precious thing was for me.” Slaine’s voice is full of warmth and undisguised longing.

They are sitting under the branches of a small tree, having spread out a cover upon its roots. Inaho silently moves a basket with sandwiches towards Slaine, picks up a stone from the ground and throws it forward - right where an edge of a small lake is glowing with sunset colors. Inaho likes watching how the waves are dispersing into neat circles on the water surface. The light of the dimming sky and a circle of the sleepy sun slowly make their way through the foliage, rustling over their heads, with scarlet rays. The hot summer is coming to an end just as well as the lines of Asseylum’s letter do. Inaho’s shoulder is unpleasantly weighed down by the leather holster.

“Children are growing up healthy and strong, they’ve already learned how to walk,” says Inaho quietly and makes a long pause, enjoying the cool of the evening. “The following year Mars will be opened for visits to civilians. The peace is prospering.”

“Is that so?” Slaine is smiling softly, closing his eyes. “I’m glad.”

Slaine rests his bright mop of hair against Inaho’s shoulder. Together they wait for the inevitable end of the dying sunset. At some point Slaine folds the slightly rumpled sheet of paper, puts it back into the envelope and carefully hides it under the basket with food. He slides his fingers along the edge of the envelope as though saying goodbye. Behind them the endless forest is rustling ominously, making it seem like only the two of them are left in the whole world. Inaho feels the fatigue of the last days weighing heavily on him, knocking away his breath. The rhythm of his heart is suddenly slowing down as if already measuring the final beats.

“Who is going to take care of the cats?” whispers Slaine trying to set straight the t-shirt, hopelessly wrinkled from lying on the ground.

“When we were leaving home, I sent a message to my sister. I suppose, she'll be here in the morning.” Inaho nods at the dark screen of his tablet. He turned it off as soon as the message had been sent to Yuki.

“Then there is no need to delay it any longer... Here?” asks Slaine, but Inaho shakes his head and rises to his feet, his fingers wrap around the other’s hand and pull Troyard into the depths of the quietening forest. Dry twigs crackle under their feet, deep grass and ferns are stretching to tickle their knees, but Inaho’s legs are securely hidden under the cloth of his uniform blue pants - they left for the lake as soon as he had returned home after the working day. Shadows are dancing on their faces, the trees and bushes are blocking the path, trying to persuade them to stop and change their minds, but not even for a moment neither Inaho nor Slaine slow down their steps.

The fingers in his hand are cold and trembling slightly. In Inaho’s memories Slaine cuddles the sleepy cats, who are once again occupying his bedroom, kisses their absent-minded faces, slowly descends down the stairs, pauses for a long time on the porch and gives the house, seeming now somehow gloomy, a farewell glance. Inaho stops, noticing a small clearing ahead. The scarlet light accusingly touches the trunks of the tall impassive pines. Inaho doesn’t resist a sudden impulse to press Slaine against his chest. He abruptly tugs at Troyard’s hand and pulls him close, burying his nose in the strands of hair behind Slaine’s ear, breathing in the scent of home.

Even if Slaine is surprised by his actions, he doesn’t show it. He silently hugs Inaho back. The grass is caressing their feet, a modest scattering of beautiful white flowers is hiding between the green stems. Without breaking the embrace, Inaho takes the pistol out from the holster and searches for Slaine’s hand. Their fingers intertwine on the desirable handle.

“The magazine is full.” states Inaho. “This time make sure you killed me.”

“I prefer not to make the same mistakes, Kaizuka.” Slaine’s voice rings with a ghost of a grin, but Inaho doesn’t discern any fun, instead there is a clear tension. Inaho looses his hold on the handle, slides his fingers along Slaine’s arm and takes a few steps back. He relaxes his shoulders and closes his eye. He waits for that particular sense of relief that he had experienced before at the thought of the near death to come, but for some reason it eludes him further and further. He thinks about Asseylum, about her smile, about her kind green eyes, but even these cherished memories are fading, and suddenly others are taking up their place.

“You know, it's your fault.” bitterly says Slaine, unlimbering the gun for action. “If only you had listened to me back then, at Tanegashima, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

Inaho hears how Slaine throws the pistol up. But in his mind he is looking at completely different pictures. Here he is - standing in the middle of the night in the kitchen, pouring cold water into the kettle - Slaine is desperately clinging to the edge of the table, shaking after another terrible nightmare. Here he is - finding Troyard sleeping on the bench in the garden, pale cheeks are smeared with mud in an unfathomable way. Here he is - tired after work, sitting in the living room and reading a newspaper, when Orange, obviously having done something, rushes past him at full speed, fleeing from an angry Slaine. Here he is - fumbling in the darkness on the table for the pills to bring the temperature down, when a minute later Slaine moves them closer and brings him a glass of warm water. Here they are - waking up in the morning after having sex, Slaine’s face is amusingly burning with shame, while Inaho pretends to be absolutely calm and leaves for the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

“Come on,” says Inaho hoarsely, his heart is rubbing uneasily against his ribs. “Do it.”

Long minutes pass. The warble of wild birds is dying down, the crackling of the branches subsides after the onslaught of the wind. When Inaho opens his eye, the sunset colors are already fading. Soon the nature around will be engulfed by the true darkness. Tears are streaming down Slaine’s cheeks as he presses the trigger. Loud shots cut up the sacred silence of the forest. One. Two. Three. The pistol’s muzzle is directed at the sky, where the stars are coming out. Slaine falls to his knees, hurling the pistol away. He is shaking.

“I'm sorry, Inaho, I can’t.” He whimpers, burying his fingers in the deep grass, crushing the scattering of flowers. “I can’t kill you. I can’t kill myself. Inaho, I...”

“What?” Inaho struggles with the dryness in his throat, barely managing to get the words out. “What are you...?”

“I want to go back,” Slaine’s hands roam his chest, rip off the locket which he never dared to take off, and crumple his t-shirt so hard as if it smothers him. “I want to go home. Even if I'll be damned, I still don’t want to...”

Inaho kneels down to Slaine, lets his hand bury itself into the messy hair, and finds himself pressing Slaine’s head against his shoulder.

“...I don’t want to die.” Slaine’s lips are trembling upon voicing the words. He is choking with tears, choking with sobs, choking with loud crying, and it feels like all the pain he had ever suffered is gathered in that scream. Inaho holds him until the cries end. Until Slaine’s eyes disappear under the swollen eyelids. Until his feverish, hard breath calms down.

Inaho feels a strange sense of calmness enveloping him. The tiredness, the bitterness, everything goes away, giving way to an odd gentleness. Inaho removes the sweaty strands of hair from Slaine’s forehead and presses his lips to his temple.

“Then let's go back,” he agrees, helping Slaine up and leading him towards the car. They leave behind everything - the gun, the locket and the letter.

Home meets them with warm lights and lonely cats. Orange, purring, is snuggling up to their feet, slowing their way to the bedroom. Slaine, watching him, forces out a smile and leans onto Inaho’s shoulder. Gull meets them lying imposingly in the middle of the bed. He lets Inaho pat him for the first time. Inaho helps Slaine to get under the blanket and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, still not letting go of Slaine’s hand. Slaine is most likely afraid to stay alone, his nails are tearing painfully into Inaho’s arm.

“What should I cook for breakfast?” Inaho doesn’t really know how to calm Slaine, but he hopes that this unspoken promise of tomorrow is going to be enough.

Slaine smiles at him a sad smile and allows himself to fall sleep. Inaho leaves the bedroom door open to be able to hear if Troyard is going to have a nightmare. Unlike Slaine Inaho can’t sleep, he wanders around the house like a shadow, touching things that have piled up inside for the past year. A little bit later he settles down in the kitchen, makes coffee and takes out his laptop. To his shame, he completely forgets about Yuki and is quite surprised to hear the sound of heels assaulting the porch when the early morning comes.

The first thing he gets upon opening the door is a slap across his face, and only then Yuki, crying, pulls him against her chest. Through her tears she calls him a good-for-nothing brother. Inaho is lost upon hearing a bunch of unintelligible words, but he does understand that yesterday he hadn’t spared Yuki’s feelings at all by sending her a message with the coordinates of the house, a farewell and a request to take care of the cats. He feels guilt, and knows that now he has no right to hide the truth from her. He takes his sister into the kitchen, pours her tea, waits patiently until she calms down. He doesn’t know where to start and how better to explain. He doesn’t really understand what is going on between him and Troyard. But he realizes that they have now reached a point where they need each other just like their bodies need oxygen to breathe.

Before he decides how to begin the story, though, a sleepy, completely worn out Slaine enters the kitchen, carrying under his arms both cats.

“Kaizuka,” he mutters, displeased, releases the fluffy beasts on the floor and rubs his eyes. “Why the hell haven’t you fed them? They have stamped all over my feet.”

Yuki's face bears such an expression as if suddenly an army of the Martian kataphrakts has appeared in front of her. Slaine, seeing the unexpected intruder, stiffens, then glances at himself in the mirror, and his cheeks become red. Inaho finally notices that there are almost no clothes on Slaine - the yesterday’s wrinkled t-shirt is barely covering his hips.

“I-I beg your pardon,” Slaine retreats into the living room with the speed of light, and Yuki’s eyes are darting flashes of anger when she turns her head back and burns an unruffled Inaho with a look that doesn’t promise anything good. Inaho decides to make more coffee.

It is going to be a long day.

***

The family vault is decorated with magnificent flowers. Inaho stops over Slaine’s shoulder near the white tombstone. Slaine turns round, smiling and discreetly touching Inaho’s hand. Inaho thinks that black hair and yellowish eyes doesn’t suit Slaine very much, but he is willing to wait until they return home and there would be no longer any need for the understandable disguise. Behind them, holding the hands of two blond kids, a slim figure of Lemrina Vers Envers is shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Inaho haven’t planned to meet someone at the cemetery at this late hour, but fate, as usual, has its own scheme for the outcome of any day.

“Will you let me?” asks Slaine. “It won’t take long.”

Inaho carefully looks at Lemrina and decides that trying to hide anything from the woman who had a sufficient willpower and intelligence to pretend to be a princess of Vers for a long time is useless. Judging by Lemrina’s behavior, it is already obvious that she had recognized Troyard. Inaho nods curtly, at first listening attentively to the echoes of their conversation. Slaine is extremely polite, kissing the outstretched hand.

“You are…”

“I am just a Kaizuka, milady, without a name,” Slaine’s eyes are sparkling. Lemrina purses her lips, clearly holding back tears, but the tension in her body tells Inaho about how glad she is to see Slaine. Inaho tries to follow their conversation, full of excessive secrecy, but having made sure that Lemrina Vers Envers has no intention of betraying Slaine Troyard’s secret, soon loses interest. He returns to the tidy tombstone upon which the full name of Asseylum Vers Allusia is engraved with beautifully curled letters.

His hands are reaching inside his jacket pocket, pulling out the, almost forgotten, last letter.

_‘Dear Inaho-san._

_I sincerely hope that by the time you open this message, your life will change so much that these lines won’t bring you any pain, and that after reading them you'll be able to finally let go of my ghostly shadow, suffocating you, once and for all._

_But let’s put aside the unnecessary pleasantries. After all, these are my last words to you, and I want to voice them not as the Empress, but as an ordinary, grown up woman._

_My dear Inaho, you were kind to me more than anyone else, you taught me to never give up and to be strong, you taught me life. In the first letter I asked of you a very selfish request - to take care of Slaine Troyard. And although Slaine was really in a need of someone who could be his trustworthy support and lead him through life, I have no doubts that Slaine had always been an incredibly strong person, even despite making some mistakes. With proper support from you, Inaho, Slaine Troyard will let go of the past and become even stronger and better person than he ever was._

_Inaho, by this request I strive not only to save Slaine. Inaho, please, let me save you._

_I remember your look during those rare diplomatic meetings at which you and I managed to meet. You tried to smile, Inaho, but there was only emptiness over your face. Just like Slaine, you loved me, didn’t you? You loved me so much that you were ready to devote the rest of your life to establishing peace between our two planets, to be content with rare messages, to watch from afar how I make my life. And now that the doctors have said that I would not survive if I dare to give birth to my children, Inaho, I'm too afraid to imagine what is going to happen to you._

_Will you stand strong? Will you break? Inaho, you are too dear to me, I do not want to take any risks._

_I am giving into your hands a person who knows how to love. Perhaps this is a crazy idea, but I want to believe that Slaine Troyard, after leaving the past behind, will teach you the value of life, will show you what the true love and devotion are. I do not deny both of your feelings for me, but let them become something to unite you and help you to build over the ashes of the bottomless bitter memories something that will help the both of you to breathe and go on._

_Please, Inaho, take care of each other and live each day of this new round of life to the fullest, so that when the old age comes there would be nothing to regret about._

_Please, Gods, let my prayers be answered._

_With love and hope,  
Asseylum Vers Allusia.’_

It seems like all the sounds from the world around disappear. Inaho completely misses the moment when they leave the vault, when Slaine, laughing, tousles the two happy kids’ hair, waving goodbye to Lemrina, when they get back to the shuttle, which is now making daily trips between Mars and Earth. The passengers, agitated by visiting the foreign planet, are talking excitedly, Slaine is wearily leaning his head on Inaho’s shoulder, yet Inaho still cannot recover.

Perhaps they are already halfway to Earth when Inaho leans towards Slaine, checking whether or not he is asleep.

“Slaine,” his voice is quiet, yet determined, “Let's do it when we get back.”

“Huh? What? What are you talking about?” Troyard blinks, but when Inaho’s hand slowly slides down his hip, his cheeks are betraying him by blushing. He pushes Inaho’s hand away, turns around to make certain that nobody noticed Kaizuka’s outrageous behavior and hisses: “What has suddenly come over you, Kaizuka? I mean, we haven’t…”

Slaine is clearly hesitating to bring up the embarrassing topic, but Inaho already knows what Troyard wants to say. Since that day when they had slept with each other, they haven’t even kissed once, although during recent months there were many moments when Inaho longed to stop Slaine somewhere in the middle of the stairs and cover his mouth with his lips, having not missed the sparks of the reciprocal desire in the sea-blue eyes.

Inaho rests his head against the seat-back, but feels how the corners of his lips are going upwards. There is a boundless lightness in his heart.

“Prolonged sexual abstinence harms physical and psychological health. Particularly in men’s case…”

“Oh my God, Kaizuka, I get it! We’ll do it!” growls Slaine and throws a tissue paper at him in an act of revenge. “Just shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspirational music:  
> Extreme Music - Bring Me Back To Life (Epic Powerful Vocal Rock)  
> Gym Class Heroes - Stereo Hearts (Violin Cover)  
> The Pretty Reckless - Light Me Up
> 
> Oh my God, I feel like I've spent a whole lifetime over this. I'm gonna take a break from translating things and go write smth in my own language and then finally go and start reading all the wonderful, but uncompleted yet inasure fiction over here. Thanks everyone who've left comments while I was suffering to pretend I am a great translator which I am definitely not, but at least I tried my best. Thank you for all the support and kudos, it meant a lot to me. ❤


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